Apostles of Doom полностью

Karis had to chuckle imagining that. Of course, she had never seen a D’Warg, but she had seen paintings of the fierce creatures. She had to admit that they gave even her, a combat-hardened half-orc battle priestess, serious pause. She would never want to face one on the wrong side of a war, but riding one into battle would be fantastic! D’Wargs would scare even vampires. Although, unfortunately, due to the nature of their digestive system, the vampires would be unable to soil themselves as she charged them on D’Wargback.

She blinked as something in the room started rattling. She glanced at the communication stone, where the rattling was coming from. That was very weird; it was not the noise a communication stone made when someone was trying to communicate. Karis stood up and walked over to the small table with the stone, reaching down to pick it up.

It was definitely active, but there was no one trying to speak to her on the other side. What was going on? She stared at the stone for several moments before realizing that a second vibrating noise was coming from somewhere in the room. She looked up to see dust falling off the wall under Orcus’s portrait.

What in Tiernon’s name…?

Suddenly the dusty, nearly invisible runes around the gateway sprang to life. Karis gasped in surprise as the runic gateway began to stir, runes flashing on and off in an activation pattern. This was the second surprise runic gateway activation she’d had in a week! Within a matter of moments, all of the runes flashed brightly, and midday atunlight poured through the gateway.

Karis drew back in shock and surprise as the gateway that had been dead for over four thousand years, and thought to be inoperable, opened. Was it the Isle of Doom? She blinked in the bright atunlight as from the gateway emerged three human-sized people with a very large, ugly winged orc behind them.

It was the Isle of Doom! Tears started streaming down Karis’s cheeks. Somehow the Isle of Doom had managed to open a runic gateway over a thousand leagues away. No one, other than avatars, had had that much power since Orcus’s death.

Karis shifted her focus from the D’Orc to the others. On her right was a cloaked knight in the plate mail of the El Ohîm; the one on her left was clearly a Knight Rampant of Tiernon, even if his armor was oddly styled. However, all three figures paled in comparison with the individual leading them. This was a young man of pale complexion with long, black curly hair, wearing flowing robes covered in arcane symbols and carrying an immense staff with glowing sapphire and ruby gems twisting down the shaft.

This could not be! This was impossible! Karis glanced above the young man’s head to the painting on the wall over the gateway. Her jaw dropped as her eyes flicked between the young man and the fresco above, her mind going numb. She fell to her knees and bowed her head. “My Lord Orcus! You have returned! Praise be to the Lords of Light!” she managed to say with the last of her breath. The Lord of Light’s presence had stolen the very wind from her lungs.

Tom blinked in surprise as the heavily armored half-orc knight got down on her knees and bowed to him.

“My Lord Orcus! You have returned! Praise be to the Lords of Light!” the knight — a woman, Tom realized — said.

“Yes. I–I’m surprised that you recognized me,” Tom said a bit hesitantly. He had not been planning on introducing himself as Orcus, primarily because he himself was not convinced that he was Orcus returned, and because he was already calling himself Lord Tommus.

The knight looked up above his head. “It’s rather hard not to. Although you do look much younger.”

Tom and the others turned to look up, following her gaze. There was a very large mural with Tom’s bearded face on it.

Well, that explains that, Tom thought, shaking his head. “So, and you are?” he asked, turning around and offering his hand to help her to her feet, even as he was mentally verifying that in order to get to Mount Doom, he needed to route through the Doom of Nysegard, as expected.

She took his hand hesitantly and slowly stood. She shook her head. “I am sorry. I am Karis Crooked Stick, Battle Priestess of Tiernon. I am the one who sent word to the Isle of Doom this morning. I was awaiting a response. This is far beyond anything anyone expected!”

The priestess — not a knight, after all — was fairly gushing with excitement. While Tom had not been around orcs or D’Orcs very long, this was a level of enthusiasm he had never seen. “Well, the Citadel has stood by Doom’s side through thick and thin, and we shall stand by yours,” he said, smiling. “Allow me to introduce my colleagues. We have come to evaluate the situation and strategize on how best to deploy our forces. Behind me is—”